A Tiny Tale Of Fire and Ice
by soulgyrl53
Summary: John wants to go ice skating. Sherlock, however, isn't so sure about that particular activity. But...alas...love saves the day.


"You're not serious," Sherlock stated, looking at John with a wrinkled brow."

No answer. Just a smile.

"I'm not going to do that you know. I can't"

"Oh come on, Sherlock. Of course you can. You told me once that you and Mycroft use to skate all the time as kids."

"Key word: kids. That was a…few decades ago. I don't even remember the last time I had a pair of skates on."

"So you won't go…not even for me?"

Sherlock sighed and shook his head slowly. "Damn… Why are you doing this? Why are you so intent on this 'skating venture'? Our investigative undertakings aren't enough entertainment for you, hmm? Now we've got to participate in activities that are bound to make us appear fools in public."

"Since when do you care about looking the fool in public?" John commented under his breath.

"What was that? I heard that?" Sherlock quipped, indignant look on his face.

"Key word, Sherlock: investigative. As in 'work'. This is for fun. You remember fun? We don't really do much for fun, do we?"

"What do you mean we don't have fun? We have fun; we do a lot of things together. You don't think it's fun when we're together?" Sherlock looked decidedly crestfallen.

John walked over to his partner, and grabbing both hands, kissed each one in turn. He then reached up and pushed a few strands of curls off of Sherlock's cheek.

"Of course it's fun when we're together. But, occasionally, we ought to do something _outside_ of work and _outside_ of this flat. Look, if you _really_ don't want to go skating I'm not going to force the issue. We could…go out for dinner and a movie if you'd rather."

"Or stay home and play Cluedo?" Sherlock said, perking up a bit.

"Oh god, Sherlock, please; anything but that tonight?" John closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his forehead.

Sherlock looked down at the man before him. He could see John was feeling a little weary over this exchange and he felt a sudden pang of remorse. A voice from somewhere inside of him began to speak.

 _He means well. He's only trying to make you happy, Sherlock. He's doing this for you; for the two of you. Perhaps he's afraid you'll get bored of him if he doesn't keep the relationship fires burning, as it were. Prove him wrong, Sherlock. He's doing this because he loves you._

A rush of affection came pouring over him. Sherlock stepped in and encircled the smaller man in his arms. He kissed the top of the tousled head.

"No. No movie, no….Cluedo. But yes to dinner and…skating. I'm assuming you're talking the rink at Fairacre Park. There's a nice little Italian place near there, Corazzo's. We can load up on carbs for energy. Would that suit you?"

John looked up at the man he loved…so much. So very much. He thought…for the thousandth time….how strikingly beautiful he was. The most beautiful man he had ever seen. He still hadn't figured out exactly what Sherlock saw in him, but he was grateful for it. Truly grateful.

"Corazzo's, yeah… sounds good. Well then, I guess that's settled. I suggest looking out your long johns. It's not terribly cold, but I think that's going to be changing. And Sherlock…we don't have to stay long. If it really isn't …working out for us, we'll leave. Now, I'll go fetch my woolies. I can put them on at the rink. They have a bathroom with a dressing area. And there are log fires with benches and they serve hot cocoa, too."

Sherlock chuckled lightly. "Sounds…lovely. Now, before I let you loose you need to do something for me. I need you to come to the kitchen with me. There's something I want to show you."

"Umm, okay," John answered. "Lead the way."

The two men walked to the kitchen and to the doorway leading into the hall. It was slightly ajar and Sherlock nudged it open the rest of the way with his foot. He turned John around so that his face was toward the kitchen and walked him back until he was standing in the door's archway.

John didn't speak, but cocked his head and looked at Sherlock quizzically.

Sherlock smiled. "Look up."

John did as instructed and remarked, "Mistletoe? Where did you get…."

And the sentence was never finished as he was engulfed in his partner's thin, but strong, arms and those lovely Cupid's bow lips met his with a fierce passion. John reciprocated the action. After a minute or so, the kiss quieted to a soft pairing...a bit of nipping and rubbing. John felt his body quiver with arousal and wondered if Sherlock was feeling the same. They parted and his eyes traveled downward. It was evident that this wonderful man before him had been equally affected.

"I don't know," John said huskily. "Perhaps we won't make it to the skating rink after all…or anywhere."

Sherlock took his love's cheeks in both hands. "Oh, John….my John, let's do go. I've got myself talked into it now. Well just spend the rest of the afternoon pondering on what we've got to look forward to when we return home." He gave John a devilish grin. One that he knew would render him putty in his hands.

John melted. "And you win, of course, you manipulative mastermind. I'll go fetch those woolies and whatever else I might need. You do the same. And…Sherlock, where did you get mistletoe? This wasn't here earlier and you never left the flat today."

"I had Mrs. Hudson pick it up for me at market. I hung it while you were having a wash. And John, we'll make this a fun afternoon…and evening. Thank you for...all you do. I love you."

"I love you too, Sherlock. Now then, onward to the ice!"

And they left the kitchen, hand in hand, towards all the day had to bring.


End file.
